


Stubborn Coughs

by SensationalSunburst



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everyone loves GLadio, Fluffy, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 06:59:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16321364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SensationalSunburst/pseuds/SensationalSunburst
Summary: “You look really bad.”“Hey no, stay over there, I’m starting to think this is the flu.” Gladio put up a hand as Iris made to move closer and squinted at her from over the top of his reading glasses. His hair was a mess, pulled into a sweaty topknot that had half fallen out and clumped behind his ear. The bags under his eyes were almost black and heavy enough that she was certain she wouldn’t be able to lift them. He was ashen within his mountain of crumbled tissues, a king of misery.ORGladio catches something a little worse than a cold.





	Stubborn Coughs

“Dude, _gross_.”

“It ain’t that bad,” Gladio groused, although the throbbing in his throat was only getting worse. He was probably due for another round of cough syrup anyway.

“I don’t think its supposed to be that color.” Noctis said, grimacing as he kicked sand over the spot on the training arena floor that Gladio had just coughed a loogie on.

“It’s fine. Just allergies.”

“You’ve been coughing all week and your parries are awful. I think you’re sick.” Noctis said, he leaned against his polearm and tossed his head out of habit, as his hair was being held back by the custom embroidered “prince of pain,” headband Prompto had made him.

“I’m not sick, it’s just allergies.” Gladio sighed and readied his stance, tossing his broadsword to his shoulder, “Now, if my parries are awful then prove it, Princess.”

As planned, Noctis snarled and ripped his polearm from the sand, and Gladio braced himself as the prince lunged forward with a spray of blue, crystalline shards.

                                                 

* * *

 

“Gladio? You good man?” Prompto said, hovering just over he was wheezing in the grass. The near freezing rain that had pelted the city all week had finally let up, and although it was still cold, it had dried out and Prompto and Gladio had resumed their afternoon runs. Except that halfway through their normal route, Gladio had been waylaid by a dry, rasping coughing fit that had him spitting vivid mucus into the grass between painful gasps.

“You don’t sound good. You sound _bad_ man, Noct said you were sick but I mean, that was like, a week ago. Gods, that looks gross. Its _definitely_ not supposed to be that color. Have you told Iggy? He’ll make you the Magic Soup, if you do.”

“Prom.” Gladio gasped, still hunched over with his hands braced on his knees, “Stop.” He stood back up and shook himself like a dog, wiping the back of his mouth with a tissue he pulled from the pocket of his running pants. Prompto snapped his mouth shut, but his expression was pinched and he was worrying the permanent scab on his lips between his teeth.

“Just a cold and allergies, don’t worry about. Ignis already chucked the entire Citadel pharmacy at me.” Gladio said, he clapped a heavy hand on Prompto’s shoulder, but it did nothing to ease the concern on his face.

  
“Did he give you the lemon tea? I hate that stuff, it’s so gross.” Prompto danced back and forth on his toes until Gladio gave him a gentle shove to get him going down the trail again. Above them, the remaining autumn leaves continued to fall, covering the path in sunset shades of orange and yellow.

“He did and I’ve been drinking it. Don’t worry, the change of seasons is always rough.”

“If you say so, just keep an eye on it, those coughs… they sounded savage, dude.”

“Should I call you Mini Iggy?” Gladio laughed.

“Hey! I’m just saying!”

“Less talking, more running!”

* * *

 

“Gladdy? Are you home?” Iris strolled into Gladio’s apartment with the entitled air only a little sister can master before she paused, freezing in the entryway with one shoe on with the realization that Gladio’s door had been unlocked.

Gladdy  _never_ left his door unlocked. It was Home Safety 101.

“Gladiolus.” Iris said, heart in her throat. She tore into the living room, her phone in her hand and finger hovering over the speed dial for her father before she spotted her brother’s hulking figure hunched on the sofa. He was curled in the crochet blanket their mother had made for him before her death, black and patterned with the flower he was named after, just like her’s. He hadn’t seemed to notice her arrival, too busy staring blankly at the paperwork scattered on the coffee table.

“Gladio!”

He jumped, nearly falling off the couch as he leapt to his feet. He was only up for a moment before his legs seemed to give out and he slumped back onto the couch, glaring. “You scared the shit out me, Rissy.”

Iris’s eyebrows shot to the top of her face; Gladio hadn’t used that nickname in years.

“You left the door unlocked.” She said.

“Ah, shit. I did, didn’t I.”

“You look _really_ bad.”

“Hey no, stay over there, I’m starting to think this is the flu.” Gladio put up a hand as she made to move closer and squinted at her from over the top of his reading glasses. His hair was a mess, pulled into a sweaty topknot that had half fallen out and clumped behind his ear. The bags under his eyes were almost black and heavy enough that she was certain she wouldn’t be able to lift them. He was ashen within his mountain of crumbled tissues, a king of misery.  

“Have you called Dr. Lawston?” She asked, “I think you should call her.”

“I don’t need Dr. Lawston, I need some peace and quiet. Possibly more tea.” He sniffed.

“You’re supposed to have a session with Noct and Prompto tomorrow.”

“Nyx and Libs took it over for me.” Gladio let out a small, quiet cough and reached blindly behind him for a tissue. The one he grabbed was already crumpled and she wrinkled her nose as he blew into it. He tossed it behind him a moment later and collapsed further into the couch, visibly exhausted. “They’re gonna cover until I feel better.”  

“Are you working? You need to rest!” Iris threw a hand over his shoulder at the pile of paperwork scattered all over his onyx coffee table.

“Iris.” He snapped, “I got it. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have homework?”

“Fine, but if you haven’t called Dr. Lawston by tomorrow I’m going to call her for you. Or I’ll sic Iggy on you.”

* * *

 “Gladio!”

He woke up to hands on his face, frigid and small. He wanted to open his eyes, but they were gummed shut and far too heavy for such lifting.

“Holy shit! Why is he on the balcony?”

“Prom, go call Iggy.”

“R-right! Back in a jiffy!”

The impossible voices sounded like they were coming from underwater. Impossible because Gladio was pretty sure that Noctis didn’t even know where he lived. He had a key, they all did, just in case something happened and they needed an impromptu safe house, but they had never stepped foot in his small, sundrenched apartment. His little apartment full of books and coated with rich, warm colors and his refrigerator covered in Iris's drawing and walls covered in art. 

* * *

“Gladiolus, open your eyes.” Ignis demanded.

Ignis only even demanded things only when he was truly upset, and was already stressed enough as it was; he didn’t need Gladio to made it worse. Gladio peeled his eyes open, and blinked up at Ignis. He was kneeling in front of him, one hand on his cheek with the other pressed against his forehead. The crinkle in his brow made the freckles near his nose look like an unhappy face. It was adorable.

Gladio didn’t remember falling asleep though. He remembered feeling like he was burning up, like he couldn’t cool off in his apartment. He remembered taking his paperwork outside to his balcony.

“There you are, gave Prompto quite a fright.”

Prompto? He hadn’t seen Prompto all week.

“Do you remember Noctis and Prompto coming in to check on you?”

“Iggy.” Speaking felt like swallowing glass and he swallowed impulsively, groaning when even that caused spikes of white hot pain to shoot down his throat.

“That’s alright, you can just nod. Your voice sounds dreadful.”

Gladio nodded and let Ignis help him into sitting up. The room spun wildly around him and he clenched his eyes closed against the pain pulsing behind his eyelids. Vaguely, he registered Ignis’s fingers, cold as ice, running along his temple and through his hair.  He pulled Gladio’s head forward, letting him hide his face from the light against his stomach. Gladio wanted to reach up, to wrap his arms around Ignis’s waist and bask in the coolness of his silk shirt, but his arms were too heavy.

“He’s awake,” Ignis said, he was speaking quietly, soothingly.

“Should we take him to the hospital?”

Noctis?

Gladio turned his head slightly and opened one eye to peer out from under the shelter of Ignis’s arms. Noctis and Prompto were hovering in doorway to his screened in balcony, peeking around the corner as if they were unsure of their welcome. The crease between Noctis’s eyebrows was deeper than ever and he had a firm grip on Prompto’s hand, his other was clenched around his phone. Prompto was nibbling on his lip, his arms wrapped around Noct’s, his eyes darting back and forth between Ignis and Gladio.

“I- His eyes look kinda glazed.” Prompto said. Gladio tilted his face back into the darkness of Ignis’s shirt and unsuccessfully attempted to stifle a cough. Ignis patted his back, telling him it was alright, but he hadn’t had the breath to cough up whatever was weighing down his chest in days. The effort of even trying sapped what little energy he’d summoned and he slumped fully into Ignis, limp and pliant even as he was pulled back. Ignis tapped a finger against where his face had been resting on his stomach and froze. The fingers on his shoulders tightened momentarily, and Gladio let out a grunt of displeasure, before they loosened and began rubbing soothing circles into the base of his neck.  

“Yes, Noctis, I think we shall.”

“-is that _blood_?” Noctis said.

“-Can he walk? Should we carry him? Should we call an ambulance? Is he dying, Iggy!?” Prompto’s voice rose in panic, and Ignis hissed, silencing him.

“He’s not dying.” He snapped, then, softer, “Noctis, call-”

* * *

 “Gladiolus?”

The hands on his face now were calloused and not quite as cold as Ignis’s. When he opened his eyes, he found that he was slumped against Ignis’s shoulder on the patio bench, one hand held between both of Ignis’s. He’d lost his gloves and Gladio spent a movement focusing on the feeling of the scar on Ignis’s thumb rubbing against his knuckles until someone lightly shook his head. Gladio dragged his eyes up and frowned, confused.

His father was kneeling before him, hands on each of his cheeks. But his father was supposed to be at the Citadel, pruning the latest Crownsguard class. His father was supposed to be with the King, not stroking his son's cheeks with his thumb.

“Dad?” He said, voice cracking through the ground glass in his throat, “Dad. I don’t feel good.”

“I know.” Clarus said, he ran careful fingers through his sweat soaked hair, “We’re going to go to the doctor, alright?”

Gladio nodded.

“Alright, so I need you to work with Ignis and I and stand up. I know you’re tired, but you can do it.”

With a grunt, Ignis and Clarus helped him to his feet, after which Clarus tugged his arm over his shoulder taking most of his weight as Gladio sagged, muttering under his breath.

“-okay.” Gladio said, “I’m okay. Just need a, just- a breather.”

“You’re good, dude.” Prompto said, his hands fluttered, looking for a way to help. Abruptly, Gladio straightened his legs, attempting to pull away from his father’s iron grip. Ignis darted under his other arm, shoring him up until he flagged with a sighed apology.

“I’ve got him, why don’t you go pull the car around.”

* * *

 Gladio blinked and they were in the car. He dragged his eyes to the window, blinking as the lights of the city blurred past, fast enough to make his eyes water. He didn’t know who was driving, but he found he didn’t really care. Whoever they were, they were going far too fast.  

“Dad?” He croaked, “Dad.”

“I’m here, Gladio.” Clarus said from right beside him, and the hand he just noticed around his shoulders tightened. His head rolled away from the window, landing in the curve of his father’s neck.

“Dad, I think-” He swallowed and trailed off, the thought lost to the dark and the smokey smell of his father’s jacket.  

“What is it?” Clarus said. Gladio could feel is voice rumbling through his chest from where his head was resting on his shoulder.

“Noct?”

“I'm here, man.”

Gladio nodded, essentially rubbing his head against his father's neck and fell silent.

* * *

 “-and I told him and he just ignored me!”

“Iris, you know your brother is stubborn.”

Gladio cracked his eyes open with a groan, automatically moving to flip onto his side.

“Uh uh.” Clarus said, he pressed a hand against Gladio's chest and pressed him back, “Let's make enough effort to keep that IV right where it is.”

“What?” Gladio flopped back, confused but calm as his father gave him a straw to sip on. The water tasted strangely sweet, an electrolyte solution then, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Urgh, gross.”

“You wouldn't need it if you'd told anyone how sick you were. You caught pneumonia.”

“What? I- I thought it was the flu.”

“You thought wrong!” Iris said from beside him. She had his hand wrapped up in her own, clenched tight enough that her knuckles were white.

“You need more protein, I can barely feel that.” Gladio wheezed, but Iris squeezed his hands harder with a hiss and thunked them against the bed.

“Probably the drugs.”

“Def the drugs, dude. Those good, good drugs.”

Prompto and Noctis were seated at the end of his bed, their feet propped up near his. Prompto flashed him a smile, but Noctis leaned forward to punch his foot.

“I told you so. I told you you were sick.” He said,  “I’m your Prince, you have to listen to me.”

“Gods above, I must agree.” Ignis said. He’d paused in the door to the room, two Ebony cups in his hand and shook his head as he handed one off to Clarus.

“I’m sorry,” Gladio said.

“Don’t apologize,” Clarus sighed, sipping at his coffee with a grateful nod to Ignis, “Just take better care of yourself.”

“Yeah, now let me tell you about the cadet that thought he could beat Prom at the range.”


End file.
